‘… and I figured the satellite must be some kind of intelligence-gatherer. Maybe a communications intercept.’

‘Did the rest of the crew know?’

‘The ground staff knew, or at least we guessed.’

‘But what about the shuttle crew?’

‘Well, Mike Dreyfuss didn’t know. But as for the rest of them …’ Devereux shrugged his shoulders. ‘What does it matter, they’re dead now.’ He turned suddenly and held his glass aloft, yelling towards the waiter, ‘Another one of these!’ Then he looked back at Hepton. ‘Have I told you anything you didn’t know?’

‘Oh yes,’ Hepton answered thoughtfully. ‘Quite a lot.’ There was one thing, one innocuous thing Devereux had said, that kept echoing in his head. A communications intercept. Something didn’t ring true, but he couldn’t think just what.

24

As Sanders drove them to the safe house in St John’s Wood, Jilly dozed drunkenly in the back seat, her head resting in Hepton’s lap. Hepton himself felt wide awake and stone-cold sober. He saw Devereux’s face again as they took their leave of him at the Achilles Hotel. The American’s eyes had looked dull and unfocused, a man tired of living; or at least of living with lies. A man haunted by his own fears.

From time to time, Hepton glanced back to see if any cars were following them, and each time he did so, Sanders would offer a confident ‘I’d have spotted them by now.’ Which didn’t make Hepton feel any easier. The late-evening traffic was dense, and as they stopped at lights alongside a black cab, Hepton studied the foreign-looking male passenger, who, catching his eye, bowed his head slightly as though in acknowledgement before the lights turned green and both vehicles moved off.

‘Why St John’s Wood?’ he asked Sanders.

‘Because that’s where the nearest Security Service safe house is.’

‘But you’re not MI5, are you?’ Hepton didn’t know much about spies, but he did know that MI5 – the Security Service – handled intelligence work at home, while MI6 – the Secret Intelligence Service – covered foreign operations.

‘Yes,’ Sanders agreed, ‘but unfortunately the Security Service has to be in on this too. After all, we’re in Britain. This is their territory. But since the United States is involved also …’

‘It’s a joint operation, then?’

‘I believe there have been a couple of meetings today to clarify the situation. Not that we enjoy working together, you understand. It’s a matter of trust.’ Sanders glanced round at Hepton. ‘You’re lucky, actually. Their safe houses are a bit nicer than ours.’ He smiled.